Operation Vulture Swoop (A James Bond Fanfiction)
by FrodoLuverNumber1
Summary: 007, James Bond is on a mission in Russia to stop an assassin from killing the Prime Minister of England, but before he can stop the assassin from traveling to England to do the deed, Q is kidnapped. The only way to save him is to figure out clues sent to James via his cell phone. With the Prime Minister a prime target and his good friend captured, how will James save them both?
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is set after Skyfall. Gareth Mallory is the new M and uhhh thats rly all :) oh and the Q in this story is the one from skyfall. I didn't know what one to put in the characters spot or whatev so yaa... enjoy :)

Chapter One: The Start

The cool, crisp air whistles though the barren trees. Snow gently floats to the frozen ground. The weather is nippy, miserable, and biting, but James Bond is ignoring that little detail.

James rubs his hands together, trying to keep them from freezing. After all, he can't have his hands numb to work a gun properly. And he definitely is going to need a gun. He grabs the guard that he'd knocked out a minute before. He hoists up the guard to an eye scanner and pries the man's eyelids up. The scanner beeps and James grins.

"Bingo."

The alley-way door opens with a loud swooshing sound and James is in. He pulls out his Walther PPK, cocking and loading it. James says goodbye to the cold, frigid weather that Russia boasts and says hello to the warm, inviting heat from within the top-secret building he's easily just gotten into. Well, the Grand Dalia Hotel isn't exactly top-secret, but they don't let just anybody in.

James points his gun to the ground and slinks through the hallways, his ears perked for any sounds of unsuspecting workers or evil masterminds; you know, the usual. He finally comes to the one place he's been searching for and he slips his gun into his pocket, adjusting his suit. He opens the doors and is greeted by elegance.

Prestigious men dressed in perfect suits dance with beautiful women dressed in sparkling, shimmering dresses. Couples sit in tables and chairs and sip wine, laughing at each other's alcohol-induced jokes. James descends the staircase and grabs a drink off a passing worker's tray, downing the drink in a single gulp.

James scans the room with his eyes, passing over numerous important-looking people. His bright, icicle-blue eyes finally settle upon a slightly over-weight man surrounded by three body guards sitting in a booth and beside him sits the most beautiful woman in the room: The woman has light brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin. The group look up as James approaches their table.

The bodyguards rise from the booth but James raises his hands. "I have no business with you."

The overweight man starts to rise but James shakes his head. "Not you, either."

The man frowns and awkwardly sits back down.

The beautiful woman looks up. "Me?"

"Of course. I always make a point to dance with the most beautiful woman in the place at these sort of things," James says smoothly.

The woman blushes and giggles but the man just glares at James. "Well, since the woman your referring to happens to belong to me, you will not go near her," the man says in a heavy Russian accent.

James furrows his brow at the man's words. Belong? "Can't the woman decide for herself?"

"The woman has a name!" the woman stands up abruptly. "And it is Sonia Letvia!"

"Well, Sonia Letvia," James asks, flashing the woman a dashing smile, "would you care for a dance?"

"I would!" Sonia replies, exiting the booth and grabbing James' hand. "I'd like to dance with a real man for once!"

"And what does that mean, woman?" the man yells but James and Sonia were already dancing into the middle among the other dancers.

The two dance around the elegant ballroom and James leads, as gentlemanly as he could. Sonia looks beautiful in an emerald green dress with diamonds outlining it, strappy silver heels, and a jade necklace. James looks just as good in a sleek black suit and bow tie with matching shoes.

"You truly are the most beautiful woman in this whole room," James tells Sonia.

"Why, thank-you, Mr... what is your name? I didn't catch it," Sonia asks, blushing again.

"Bond. James Bond," James says, grinning. God, he loves saying that.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Sonia raises her eyebrows playfully.

"It usually does," James grins. "By your blushing, I can tell you aren't told you're beautiful that much, are you?"

Sonia looks down. "No. Bevlo never even tells me that I look remotely pretty."

So it is Bevlo, James thinks to himself.

The reason 007 James Bond is here is a big one. Bevlo Astafurov is a highly-skilled assassin and M had just delivered James a tip that Bevlo was planning to assassinate the prime minister of England. Bevlo didn't have any beef with the prime minister, but usually assassins didn't kill people because they themselves wanted to; they usually had an employer. It is James' job to figure out who this employer is. And Sonia is James' best bet to get information; Bevlo isn't going to talk unless James resorts to more, uh, unconstitutional methods.

"Well, he should tell you," James says, staring into Sonia's eyes. "You deserve to be told that you are the most gorgeous woman in the world. That deserves some recognition."

"James," Sonia says, looking at the floor. "I do have a boyfriend."

"You could change that," James flashes Sonia a dashing smile.

Sonia laughs. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"A little," James replies. "But that's not what I'm here for."

"Oh? What is?" Sonia asks, tilting her head in a playful way.

"I'm here to ask about Bevlo," James starts but doesn't continue as Sonia drops James' hands. "What?"

"I should've known!" Sonia yells. "All anyone ever wants from me is information about Bevlo! Bevlo! Bevlo! Bevlo! It's so maddening!"

James stays quiet. When a woman is yelling, you let her yell.

"Tons of men come to me and I think, 'Hey! Here's a nice guy who has noticed me,' but nooooo! They just want information about Bevlo!" Sonia screams.

"Look, I don't like Bevlo all that much, either. If you hate the guy, why don't you break up with him?" James asks.

"It's not that easy," Sonia gets quiet. "He knows things about me."

"Like what?"

"Bad things."

"Well, do you know if he's planning anything?"

"I don't know! He never tells me anything!" Sonia sighs, walking over, pulling out a chair, and sitting down in a huff.

James pulls out another chair and sits down beside Sonia. "Do you know if he's on a job right now?"

"I think he said something about England or something," Sonia sighs. "I know he mentioned England at least. Oh and something about the Prime Minister."

So he is on a job, James thinks.

"Do you have any other information, Sonia?" James asks, putting his hand on Sonia's knee.

"Well, I know we're leaving Russia early tomorrow," Sonia says, taking a large sip from a random glass set atop the table and makes a face. "Oh, this is terrible!"

James grabs the glass and takes a sip for himself. "That's because it was stirred."

James looks up from the table and sees Bevlo rising from the table and walking over to the table James and Sonia are sitting at.

"Time to go, Sonia," Bevlo says, grabbing Sonia's arm and yanking Sonia up from the chair.

"Ow!" Sonia yelps and James glares at Bevlo.

"Say goodbye to your new friend," Bevlo commands.

"Goodbye, James," Sonia mumbles, being hauled off by Bevlo.

"Til later, Sonia," James nods.

HE DEFINITELY IS PLANNING AN ASSASSINATION, James thinks. ONE THING IS FOR SURE; BEVLO IS NOT LEAVING RUSSIA.

James rises from the chair when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

"Yes?" he says, answering the phone.

"James!" James hears Q's out-of-breath voice on the other side of the mobile. "You have GOT to look up on YouTube 'Cat Chasing Its Tail'! It is the funniest thing ever! I almost died laughing!"

James rolls his eyes. James had grown very fond of the young, dark-haired, be-speckled quartermaster, but sometimes he could be so bothersome. After M's death, James has become really depressed. Well, everyone did, but James took hard; James had come to think of M as a mother, after he'd lost his real one.

It was as if he'd lost another mother.

One day, when James was feeling especially down, Q had come in and found James crying. Yes, JAMES BOND, had been crying. And it was all-out bawling. He didn't really know what had happened, but he couldn't hold in the tears and sadness any longer. Of course the funeral was hard, but it was the little things that made James choke up.

"Did your favorite soap opera get cancelled?"

James looked up and saw Q leaning against the door frame of the break room.

James wiped away the tears that had clustered in his crystal-blue eyes and wiped his nose on his sleeve, something he usually never did.

"How'd you guess?" James asked sarcastically.

Q sat down on the couch James was sitting on. "But seriously, what's wrong?"

"I know it's been a while since M died, but I can't help the feeling I want to cry whenever I see a bulldog because of her horrid little ceramic one, and just little things like that," James said in one long breath.

Q nodded. "I know. It's really hard. Especially for you. I could tell you and M had a special relationship. But do you want to know what I think?"

"Enlighten me."

"This might sound cheesy or whatever, but I think M is looking down from Heaven and looking after you as she did in life. Guiding you along or something."

James looked up into the warm hazel eyes of the young quartermaster. "That's not cheesy at all. That was beautiful."

Q grinned. "Well, that's what I was aiming for."

James chuckled. "Then, you were right on."

"Feel better, 007," Q said, rising from the couch. "And if you ever need any more 'beautiful'," Q does air quotations here, "quotes, you know where to find me."

"Will do," James laughs. After crying so much, it feels good to laugh.

Q is a good kid, but right he doesn't have time for YouTube videos.

"Q," James says haughtily, "I don't have time for cat videos! I'm working!"

"Oh, really?" Q asks questioningly. "What were you doing before I called? Not flirting with girls, were you?"

James grins. "Perish the thought."

Q laughs and replies, "Oh, how I think that? It's not as if that happens every day or anything."

James himself cracks a smile. "I'd never do that, Q."

"Whatever," Q says. "Just look it up later."

"Sure, Q," James says, ending the call.

Now, on to more pressing matters: stopping Bevlo from leaving Russia.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: This is set after Skyfall. Gareth Mallory is the new M and uhhh thats rly all :) oh and the Q in this story is the one from skyfall. I didn't know what one to put in the characters spot or whatev so yaa... enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Sorry, I forgot to do this before in the first chapter! I don't own James Bond or anyone in the franchise! Only original characters :)

Q walks down the long corridors of the MI6 building and chuckles to himself, thinking of the hilarious cat video. The little thing just kept chasing its tail for the longest time!

Q shuts off the lights of MI6 in the electronics room. It's his turn to lock up tonight and after shutting off all the lights, he heads back to his desk to grab his things.

Q shuts his laptop, plops it in his bag, and turns off the final light on his desk. Q yawns. He realizes how exhausted he is. Being the quartermaster and pretty much the smartest person at MI6 really takes a lot out of you.

When Q first started working at MI6, he was a quote, "cute, little, fresh-faced boy" as some secretary or someone had called him. He didn't really appreciate that little comment, but he realized that is what he was. Working at MI6 really does something to you. It made you realize just how crazy and sick people were and the world as well. It really gives your perspective of planet earth and Q knew that firsthand.

Q yawns again and rubs his eyes. Time to get out of here. As he starts to make his way out of MI6, the lights pop back on. Q furrows his brow. Hm, he thinks, that's odd. Oh, well, probably the lights are just being weird tonight. He walks back to the electronics room and opens the door.

A gust of hot air hits him right in the face and he staggers backward, making his glasses fall off. His vision blurs like usual and he thinks, Good going, Velma. Q runs his hands over the smooth, cold concrete ground, looking for his spectacles.

When he finally finds them, he plops them back on the bridge of his nose and his vision clears. He stands up and dusts off his sweater.

"That's better," Q says with a nod.

The electronics room is a large room filled with equipment that Q knows all the names of (probably not one other agent does). When you come into the room, there are wires all over the place and a big wall is lined with computers and on the back end of the wall is the control panel for the lights.

Q walks over to the other side of the wall and what he finds, he doesn't suspect.

A large man is standing by the lights with a huge bat in his hands and Q barely has time to scream before the bat connects with his head and darkness envelopes him

...*...

When Q wakes up, his head aches. He's strapped to a chair with thick ropes. He has no clue where he is and it's incredibly dark. With what little light there is, he can tell his vision is blurry. Oh, yay. He took my glasses, Q thinks. Real cool. Wait... Then with a sick feeling burying itself inside his stomach, he realizes that his eyes are blurry also because a trickle of blood is steadily flowing from his head into his eye.

"Oh, joy," Q mutters and instantly regrets it as a huge man enters the room.

"So, the princess is up?" the man says in a cruel tone, pulling out a chair to sit down in. "How was your rest?"

"Oh, just peachy," Q retorts, letting his sarcasm get the better of him.

The man smiles in a way that makes Q very uncomfortable. "You'd better watch that tongue with me, or I'll have to punish you. Actually go ahead and be as sarcastic as you want; that just means you'll have plenty of punishments."

Putting the creepy chats aside, something about this man reminds Q of someone. He has very light blonde hair, and his face seems almost hollow. Something about him reminds Q of someone, he just can't put his finger on it.

But before finding out who this man is, there's more pressing matters at hand.

"Why have you kidnapped me?" Q asks, looking up at the man.

"Wow, aren't your curt," the man scoffs. "Well, if you must know, I have some beef with 007 James Bond."

"So why did you capture me?!" Q exclaims.

"Well, I've heard talk that you and James are good ol' buddies," the man says. "So, I kidnapped you to get that little dick here."

"Um, you know that he works here at MI6," Q says, his eyebrows stitched together in confusion. "And since you got in here, God knows how that happened, why didn't you just kill him when he was alone or something?"

"Oh, sweetheart," the man says in a sickly-sweet voice, "you're not at MI6. You're at my house-"

"Oh, yay. We're having a play date..."

"-and why would I kill James in MI6? Hundreds of agents swarming the place ready to arrest me within seconds if I killed one of their favorite pals?" the man finishes. "My, for supposedly the 'smartest person at MI6," air quotations here, "you're not too bright."

Q's face grows hot. It always enrages him whenever someone insults his intelligence. When he was little, he wasn't good at school. At all. He got terrible grades, even though he was incredibly bright. The other children in his class would always make fun of him and taunt him; he didn't have a lot of friends back then, if any.

The doctors later discovered that he had dyslexia and therefore made it hard for him to learn and do well in school. His doctor gave him a prescription that would help and told Q's mother to read aloud to him and acquire a large vocabulary. Years later for the young genius quartermaster, you could never have guessed that he had trouble with school. Those early years were hard for him and whenever anyone insulted his intelligence, he got extremely angry.

"Shut it!" Q yells. "I am smart! It's a little hard to think straight when you're strapped to some psychotic man's chair in said psychotic man's house!"

The man grins evilly and all of a sudden, punches Q right in the face, making his nose gush blood.

"Now, sweetie, don't be TOO naughty," the man laughs sadistically.

Q gasps and glares at the man. "Bastard!"

"Hush, little one," the man says, putting a finger to Q's lips. "Let's not say naughty words!"

Q glares at the man and bites the man's finger. "Screw you!"

"Why, you little prick!" the man snaps, his voice changing drastically from a creepy sing-song voice to a hardened and malicious voice that makes Q's stomach drop and his heart race.

The man comes extremely to Q's face and the man's breath is hot and putrid on Q's face. "You're starting to annoy me. So, how 'bout I rough ya' up a bit?"

The man turns away and as he turns back, Q's eyes widen in terror.

The man is holding a hot, branding iron and he has a terrifying look on his face.

Q gulps and asks, "I-I'm guessing y-you don't have any c-cows you need to brand?"

"Nope."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Stopping Bevlo

Author's note: This is set after Skyfall. Gareth Mallory is the new M and uhhh thats rly all :) oh and the Q in this story is the one from skyfall. I didn't know what one to put in the characters spot or whatev so yaa... enjoy :)

"Bevlo Astafurov's room number."

James stands at the front desk of the Grand Dalia. A young, light-haired girl stands behind the desk, typing away on a computer when she looks up, finally acknowledging James' presence.

"Pardon?" she asks; obviously this ditsy girl hadn't been paying attention.

"I need the room number for Bevlo Astafurov," James repeats, getting annoyed; did she know just who she was talking to?

"Um, I don't think I'm supposed to give out people's room numbers," the girl replies.

James has to pull out the stops with this one. "Well," James puts a hand atop the girl's own, "what if I said it's of the utmost importance and that I could reward a beautiful girl like yourself if you gave me what I needed?"

The girl blushes. With his sandy-blonde hair, gorgeous ocean-blue eyes, and rippling biceps, who wouldn't take that offer? "Well, of it's _that _important!"

James grins. "Great."

The girl types on her computer again and says, "Room 927."

"Fantastic," James says and starts to walk away.

"Hey, what about my reward?" the girl calls.

James replies, "Your reward? Wasn't having a conversation with me enough?"

The girl glares at James and James just grins back, walking to the elevator.

James loves doing things like that.

James presses the up button on the elevator and steps in when it arrives. The terrible jazz that douses the elevator makes James want to throw up. Why can't they play good music in these things?

When he hears the ding announcing he's on the ninth floor, he steps out into the hallway and pulls out his gun. He points to the ground and slinks through the hallways, not unlike he had before entering the lavish ballroom. He tends to do that quite a bit.

James' eyes search for 927 and eventually finds it. He comes up to the door and takes a deep breath before he kicks open the door.

Bevlo and Sonia bolts up in bed and James shouts, "Stay where you are!"

"Mr. Bond?! What are you doing in my room?!" Sonia exclaims.

"This doesn't concern you, Sonia. Leave the room if you wish to not be injured," James says, pointing his gun at Bevlo. "Leave."

"No!" Bevlo pulls Sonia back onto the bed when she begins to rise. Bevlo pulls a gun from on top of the bedside table and points it at James. "She's not going anywhere!"

"Just let her go!" James yells. "She doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"Oh, but on the contrary," Sonia says, her usually sweet and shy tone changing to a hardened and sly one, "I have everything to do with this."

James looks at the dark-haired girl in shock. "What?"

""Oh, poor me! Bevlo is so terrible to me! Boo hoo hoo!'" Sonia mocks. "That was easier than taking candy from a baby!"

"So, what?" James asks incredulously. "You two are 'partners-in-crime'?"

"Exactly," Sonia rises from the bed and Bevlo lowers the gun from Sonia's head. "Oh, and we have message for you from our employer: you'll hear from him soon, you'll hear it through your phone, and he has your pet. Whatever that means!"

James furrows his brow. "What?"

"I don't know," Sonia shrugs. "We just told to pretend that we were going to kill the Prime Minister, get you to Russia, and when you tried to stop us from leaving, tell you that message, that's it," Bevlo interjects.

"Who was the man that told you this?" James asks.

"We never saw him. He only called us and said if we did this, he'd give us some serious cash," Sonia shrugs. "Now, can we just go back to bed?"

"Fine," James says gruffly. He turns to leave and says, "Oh, and you two can rot in hell."

He slams the door behind him and scratches his head. "What? What does all that mean?"

Before he can even think, his mobile beeps twice, alerting him he has a message.

"Oh, joy."

James flips open his phone and reads the message. It reads:

"Hello, James! I've heard so much about you! Lots and lots. I haven't heard much about your lil' friend, though. What's his name? R? B? Whatever his name is, I want to get to know him... torture him, get to know him, same thing!"

James looks up from his phone and his heart is racing.

"Oh my God."

James can't breathe.

"He has Q."


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey! Do you like fire? 'Cause you're gonna' get buuuuuurned!"

Q's heartbeat quickens as the big man inches closer and closer to him with the burning-hot brand.

"Look at this," the man says, holding the brand inches from Q's face, making Q breathe rapidly.

"It's gorgeous," Q mutters, continuing his sarcasm, even in the face of danger.

"No!" The man says. "REALLY at it!"

Q rolls his eyes and says, "Well, you might have to pull it back a bit."

The man narrows his eyes and pulls it back.

"That's better," Q says indignantly. "Let me see."

The brand has a flower on it, a lily. From the inside of the lily, a fire is beginning to grow.

"Like I said," Q says, "gorgeous."

"Oh, so does that means that you'd be fine with having it on your forearm?" the man smiles a horribly evil grin.

"Um, not exactly," Q swallows the lump of fear in his throat.

"Toooo baaaaad," the man says.

In one swift move, the man places the incredibly hot brand on Q's forearm.

An insanely hot pain pierces Q's skin. It shoots right down to his nerves and he experiences the most terrible pain he's ever experienced.

"AHHHHH!" Q wails in pain. "S-STOP! P-P-Please!"

The man cackles evilly. "How 'bout no?"

The man after a few more seconds of this finally removes the brand.

Q sits in that chair, breathing shakily and feeling an intense rage against this man.

"What did you do THAT for?" Q shouts at the terrible man.

"For a present!" the man says creepily. "Whenever you see that BEAUTIFUL lil' flower, you'll think of this wonderful experience!"

"That's not exactly how I'd describe this..." Q mutters under his breath.

"What's that, Little Genius?" the man asks, and Q's ears perk up (figuratively, of course) at this. The man notices and grins. "What? Oh, I know you're MI6's resident genius now, but it wasn't always like that!"

"Shut up," Q mutters, losing his nerve.

"What? Mr. Wit doesn't have a sarcastic comment?" the man sneers. "Or should I say Mr. Dyslexia?"

"Shut up," Q says even quieter than before.

"What? Is that a sore spot for you? I think so," the man grins wickedly.

"How'd you guess?" Q mumbles.

"Oh, I didn't guess... I saw."

"Um, come again?"

"I got your file, Quartermaster," the man says. "I know you inside and out."

Q feels uncomfortable and a bit queasy at that analogy, but says, "You do? Care to share with the class, then? I don't believe you."

"Well," the man begins, "you were born March 11th, 1990 in London, England to two loving parents... or were they? Your father left you and your mother when you were seven; at SUCH a tender age!"

"Shut up," Q says once more, knowing this will do nothing.

"Nope!" the man grins sadistically. "Your mother was working three jobs after dear old dad left. I bet that was hard, wasn't it?"

Q hangs his head in defeat. That part of his life still affected him and hurt him to think about. It pierced his heart to think about his hard and painful past.

His mother had been such a hard worker. She did work three jobs just to give Q a warm bed and a full belly. She was such a loving mother and Q hated his father for deserting his mother and him. All he remembered of his father was that he was stern, cold, and commanding. He hated him without end and if he ever saw that son of a bitch again, well, he didn't know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be pretty.

With the dyslexia, his father walking out on his mother and him, and his poor mother, Q had had a short childhood, had been forced to grow up fast, and had in general had a hard life. When he got a job at MI6, he thought he had put all of those memories behind him. But no. This dick had other plans.

"Yeah, I bet it was," the man answers. "Actually, I know it was. And you know what?"

"What?" Q asks tiredly, clearly drained.

"I think I know why your dad left."

Q lifts his head up and his eyes are filled with hatred and malice.

"It was because he didn't want to have a pathetic excuse of a son like you."

"Shut. Up," Q growls through clenched teeth.

"Nope," the man smiles sadistically. "Who would want you as a son? A skinny, gawky, awkward, wimpy, nerd of a boy. That's what you are, you know that?"

"At least I'm not a complete psychopathic maniac," Q replies, regaining his composure. "I bet Daddy's proud."

The man narrows his eyes. "My father's dead."

"Well, right now being dead sounds nice," Q mutters.

"That can be arranged," the man grins again.

And before Q can say or do anything, the man punches Q right in the face, knocking him out cold. As Q slips from consciousness, he is thinking about his breaking and aching heart and his hard past.


End file.
